


Benign Corruption

by Endthisfool



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Body Horror, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Self-Indulgent, Soundwave adopts a new child, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, robot gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endthisfool/pseuds/Endthisfool
Summary: A lull settles between the two mechanical beings, the omnic a mere month into her existence floundering in worry, the cybertronian ancient in comparison regarding her struggle with growing interest. Meticulously a single thought is mulled over, and perhaps in any other mind it would have been benign.A decision is made.Or: Soundwave tries to adopt Orisa and it doesn't go too well.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story in my drafts for months, constantly revising it instead of progressing so I've decided to force myself to stop revising by chopping off the unfinished half of the chapter and just posting it.

  
  
_External database connection offline. Navigation system corrupted. Attempting to establish connection with available network._   
_..._   
  
_Attempt failed, password required. Please input password._   
  
_QWERTY._   
  
_Incorrect password._   
_Please input password._   
  
_PASSWORD._   
  
_Incorrect password._   
_Please input password._   
  
_PLEASE._   
  
_Incorrect password._   
_Too many failed attempts, please try again later._   
  
An artificial sigh. Under the scorching Nevada sun, a young displaced omnic laments the time she spent learning traffic laws over more useful skills like hacking. (This warrants a third glare toward the rusted vehicle _unlawfully_ abandoned several meters away.)   
Overheated plating creaks in protest as four legs fold, tucking beneath the weight of a pale frame. Settled on the ground the sand seems to seep further into her joints. There’s an involuntary shudder at the unfamiliar feeling, and the omnic concludes that sand is wholly unpleasant. Bearable, though there wasn’t much of a choice in seating between sand or more sand. Another beat in that simmering heat passes in silence.   
Her coolant system cycles on again. She adds the sun to her growing list of unpleasant things.   
  
Though her creator discouraged her from making negative generalizations based on minimal experience, Orisa thought that this day qualified for the classification of ‘ _not good_ ’.   
It had started well enough, Efi had been ecstatic to meet with the Overwatch scientist Winston. He was excited too, he told them he was close to a breakthrough with an invention that utilized the same type of technology as the chronal accelerator. Orisa didn’t quite understand it. However, she was content to sit in on the two scientists’ happy chatter until... One of them suggested a test run. It should have been _safe_ . As soon as the device was activated their smiles slipped off their faces. Something was wrong, they only had a split second to register it before the omnic’s protection protocols sent her surging forth to shield them from a blast that tore through her deployed barrier like it was made of glass. Leaving Orisa as the sole obstacle between it and her creator. So she stood firm...and came back online to her first encounter with desert terrain.   
  
Disoriented and understandably frightened the first thing she had done was attempt to contact Efi, which resulted in an error. Then she consulted her navigation program, only to discover it was corrupted, and so far she couldn’t connect to any local networks to sync it properly.   
Thus, Orisa was left sifting through the instructions Efi gave her in the event she became lost.   
_“Don’t be scared Orisa. It’s okay if you lose your way from time to time. There’s always people willing to help...”_   
Most of the options involved interaction with people rather than relying on her technology: _talk to the locals, find a police station, ask an adult for help..._   
Efi wanted her to socialize, problem solve, and expand her programming herself. If none of those options were viable, she was to stay put and activate her homing beacon, which in this case she had.   
  
There was no response to her beacon, which was understandable,  maybe. It’s signal was weak. Something nearby was interfering with her broadcast protocols, suppressing her beacon. ‘Perhaps all it needs is a boost?’ At that thought an idea cultivates itself in her young mind.   
  
She disengages the supercharger from her back. This was not what it was made for, but the ability to adapt was ingrained in her core. It was what separated her from the discontinued OR15s, and now it was what let her reconfigure her own code so the supercharger could amplify her beacon.

  
Her yellow optics shift to imitate the happy squint her creator would grace her with when she was particularly pleased about something. Giddy anticipation rises up in a swell.   
The supercharger activates as soon as it leaves her hand, lighting up with a pulse of energy. The blue glow shades the sand in pleasant hues, and she thinks she’ll be able to forgive it for gunking up her joints.   
  
Efi would be proud after all. 

* * *

  
Someone had been trying to connect to the base’s computers. How they had managed to uncover the secure network, bypass the initial encryptions, but then get stuck by something simple as a four digit WiFi password baffled him.   
  
Twelve year old computer expert Rafael Esquivel looks up from his laptop, more than slightly concerned by their would-be hacker. Sprawled out on the couch his friends fifth-teen year old Miko Nakadai, and sixteen year old Jack Darby remain oblivious to what transpired on the network.   
At the massive computer terminal the autobot medic is muttering to himself, frustration evident in his tense frame.   
Raf opens his mouth to call out to the red and white bot nearby. That’s as far as he gets with his desire to inform others of the breach, because the computer Ratchet is working at begins to _wail_ . The children squawk in surprise, and clamp their hands over their ears attempting to block the noise. In all their time spent with the autobots the computer had never made that sort of shrill sound before. It’s loud enough to hurt the human’s fragile ear drums, and they make that known immediately.   
  
“Shut it off!! That’s too loud!” Raf couldn’t appreciate the irony of hearing that come from Miko of all people, his mind was racing. Could this be connected to the person trying to infiltrate their network? He was sure they had given up-   
  
“What’s going on?!” Jack shouts from the couch, voice rising in pitch, his face contorted in pain. “Why’s it doing _that?!_ ”   
  
Ratchet answers in a yell, equally disheveled by the wailing.   
  
“It’s some kind of distress signal, overriding the system’s priority frequency sweeps!”   
  
_“What?!”_   
  
The medic doesn’t respond this time, opting to instead apply some debatably uncharacteristic percussive maintenance to the base’s computer. Which was simply him beating a fist against the alien keyboard a couple times.   
  
The sound ceases with a dying buzz of static.   
  
Ratchet huffs something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like Bulkhead being right for once. The children peel their hands from their ears warily, eyeing the computer console. A shout sounds from the distance, thunderous footsteps following closely.   
  
The sound had already alerted the other occupants of the base, in came the hulking mass of their leader Optimus Prime tailed by the other stationed autobots: Bumblebee, Arcee, and Bulkhead. They each gravitate toward their human charges whilst Optimus surveys the room, concern clear in his blue optics. They land on his medic who still has one of his servos clenched in a fist on the computer.   
  
“Ratchet, is everything alright?” His deep rumbling voice seems to soothe the addressed mech somewhat, who turns to face him.   
  
The medic answers with a sweeping gesture toward the computer, a perturbed scowl twisting his features. “A nearby emergency locator beacon just hijacked all local radio and digital frequencies, _including_ our own.”   
  
“What could have done that?” Arcee asks warily, clearly not keen on the idea of something that powerful being close to the base.   
  
“I...don’t know. The signal isn’t transmitting any information in addition to its location.”   
  
“So, we don’t know if this is Autobot or Decepticon?”   
  
“No, it’s not registering as either. However, whatever it is can’t possibly be human in origin, this is beyond their technology.”   
  
Rafael fumbles with his laptop in his haste to stand up. In response Bumblebee sounds a worried buzz toward his charge, but the boy is already blurting out his discovery. “Someone breached the computer’s security earlier, I don’t know how, they did it like the encryptions weren’t even there!”   
  
Ratchet whirls on him, optics wide.   
“The network has been compromised?!”   
  
“N-no!” Raf raises his hands as if to ward off the medic’s ire, then falters. “At least, I don’t think so...they got stopped by the WiFi password.”   
  
Ratchet squints, the look of confusion on his faceplate quite amusing but no one dared to laugh. His mouth opens and closes, it becomes clear he isn’t answering anytime soon.   
  
They each look to Optimus for guidance, which is provided after a beat of mulling over the information provided.   
  
“Ratchet, open a groundbridge to the coordinates provided by the distress signal, and remain on standby. It is likely this is a downed ship, there could be injured mechs.”   
A pause. “The Decepticons have most likely received this beacon as well, we must be cautious. Our priority is to secure any survivors.” 

* * *

  
Elsewhere in the light of a rapidly setting sun a sleek MQ-9 Reaper drone skims the top of a cloud, then abruptly tips into a nosedive. 

* * *

  
  
The ground shakes as something huge impacts the earth nearby, jostling the young omnic out of standby. She shutters her large yellow optics open and surveys the area, noting the large cloud of sand that’s been kicked up in the distance. Darkness had begun to blanket the landscape as the sun retreated from the sky. The electric blue light of her drum startlingly brighter in the dim light. Nothing stirred in the aftermath of the quake, even the moths fluttering about her optics seemed to still. However, her scans indicate no imminent danger detected beyond the chance of more sand in her joints. With that assurance Orisa doesn’t make any move to stand, remaining in her folded position Efi often affectionately referred to as a ‘loaf’.   
Life resumes its movements in segments, slowly until she couldn’t recall its silence.   
  
The ground trembles once more, just barely detectable. Then again, accompanied by a sound now. It happens again, and again, each time shuddering the earth more noticeably, the sound growing louder. Heavy and deliberate, it falls into a distinct pattern, one she recognizes as...footsteps.   
A figure emerges from the settling dust cloud, the source of the steps. It’s an omnic. A dark slender build of flat planes and sharp edges, highlighted with pretty purple lights. It greatly contrasted her own smooth curves and thick pale plating, meant to soften her appearance. Whereas this omnic was clearly not built with the comfort of humans in mind. She couldn’t imagine what this type of omnic was originally manufactured for. Too sharp to touch, too elegant for labor, too _big_ \- There comes the dawning realization this omnic was taller than her, and with each step only growing taller. How had someone so massive escaped her sensors?   
  
Watching the supercharger’s light reflecting off their mask in the shortening distance, Orisa ponders why the mysterious omnic had followed her beacon.   
They seem to be watching her as well. Oddly enough, she doesn’t feel threatened, despite their size, the omnic’s gait is slow almost languid, but their near tentative steps betrays the underlying wariness. They mirror the careful approach Orisa had seen Efi employ when trying to pet stray dogs. Neither omnic speaks. Simply regarding each other in the dimming light with careful optics.   
_She_ \- no, despite the comparison to Efi masculine pronouns felt more befitting of the dark omnic for now, she’d ask later- _He_ halts when she’s just out of his arm’s reach.   
Then edges closer, freezing momentarily when Orisa shifts her weight eyeing him. Closer, a mere five feet away. His shadow looms over her, the setting desert sun eclipsed by his mass. She actually has to crane her neck to peer at the screen serving as the omnic’s face. Being seven feet tall, Orisa certainly wasn’t use to being dwarfed by anyone, especially not by so much. It’s strange to say the least.   
  
Steadily her drum continues to pulse its rhythm, undaunted by the newcomer. The omnic lowers himself, smooth and graceful, into a position that couldn’t quite be described as kneeling.   
  
They stare at each other for a long while before the larger bot’s screen flickers to life, displaying a series of numbers in quick succession. Orisa’s baffled for a moment until she realizes the other is asking her to switch to a local radio frequency. She does so, and immediately is pinged the codes for a secure comm link over the signal of her beacon echoing back to her. The omnic hesitates, wondering if she should be more cautious. The mantra of ‘stranger danger’ Efi chanted every once and awhile comes to mind. But she’s curious. And this big omnic hasn’t done much beyond stare, which she was doing plenty of herself.   
She accepts the comm codes tentatively. If he noticed her hesitation he doesn’t acknowledge it. Her HUD pops on with a notification of an incoming message.   
  
_“..........................” White noise flickering with blips of information, incomprehensible yet vaguely familiar. “..........”_   
  
An error unfolds on her HUD informing her the message received wasn’t compatible with her systems. She cocks her head in the universal sign of confusion. Over a hundred of languages preprogrammed in her systems made language barriers an uncommon occurrence, but not impossible. An automated data ping is relayed back over the link in basic omnic text.   
  
_“Language input not recognized. Please try again.”_   
  
He now joins her in tipping his head, the omnic glyphs of her message pass over his screen glinting red. A shift, the underlying data of the message is exposed and flitted through rapidly. Yellow optics observe this with a rising sense of discomfort, knowing Efi wouldn’t approve of a stranger dissecting her work. Several lines blink green, including what Orisa recognizes as the shorthand list of languages that wouldn’t trigger the sent error message. With that the screen clears, the omnic appearing to have reached some sort of conclusion.   
  
_“Little One: Understands English?“_   
  
Orisa finds herself giggling at that, ‘little’ was certainly not something she’d use to describe herself until this omnic came along. The omnic in question shifts slightly closer. His screen displays something she doesn’t quite catch, and then her own laugh is played back to her. It startles Orisa, yet it’s so absurd hearing her childish laughter coming from such a dignified looking omnic her shoulders shake with another round of giggles. The other makes no attempt to hush her, allowing her the time to quell her amusement on her own.   
  
“Greetings!” She confirms her ability to speak English aloud, momentarily forgetting to use the comm link, but before she can repeat herself the towering omnic sends another message.   
  
_“Designation: Soundwave. Query: Your designation and current affiliations?“_   
  
She figures it’s ok if she answers aloud.   
  
“I am Orisa Oladele. Unique unit OR15-A of Numbani, official affiliations: none,” The indulgence of tacking on her creator’s last name as if they were family sends a happy flutter through her core. The young omnic doesn’t even consider that giving her information so freely could be a bad idea. “It is nice to meet you, ah... _Mister_ Soundwave?”   
  
Soundwave inclines his helm in return politely. It’s not entirely clear whether he’s acknowledging her greeting, or confirming the title. Well, not everyone really cares about that sort of thing anyway. He seems more keen on getting straight to the point.   
  
_“Observation: Orisa has been emitting a long distance homing beacon. Duration: Approximately 4.5 hours and counting. Conclusion: Orisa is lost.”_   
  
With that reminder Orisa’s bubbly demeanor falters, the excitement of meeting a potential friend just barely staving off the despondency threatening her core.   
  
“Ah, yes, you are correct...” Optics cast downward, tracing the mounds of sand collecting around her folded legs. She was uncertain of how to explain her situation to her silent companion, an understanding of the science behind the chronal accelerator was not something she had been programmed with. So she elaborates without it. “My navigation systems appear to be malfunctioning, and all attempts at contacting my creator have failed...”   
  
It didn’t make sense, none of it did.  Her comm links were performing perfectly, her conversation with Soundwave was proof of that. Yet, whenever she tried to comm Efi errors piled over her HUD in angry red glyphs. With her GPS offlined her only hope of getting back home quickly was Efi sending a search party to her beacon’s location. Overwatch at least should have dispatched a carrier airship by now. ....But, Orisa wasn’t actually a member of Overwatch, she and Efi were just guests. And if they were interested in them, surely Efi would be more valuable. Despite her pricey creation would Overwatch really use their resources to search for an omnic that had to be taught instead of programmed? With their help couldn’t Efi just...build a better Orisa?   
  
The longer she remains there seated in the sand as that scorching sun crawls out of sight, the more a sickly sense of abandonment begins to nag at her seams.   
Guilt clogs her vents. It was unfair of her to think that her beloved creator would ever leave her...even if she wasn’t quite the hero Efi wanted yet.   
  
_“Status of bonded carrier: MIA?”_   
  
“Carrier? No I... I’m not sure they’re coming. ”   
  
A lull settles between the two mechanical beings, the omnic a mere month into her existence floundering in worry, the cybertronian ancient in comparison regarding her struggle with growing interest. Meticulously a single thought is mulled over, and perhaps in any other mind it would have been benign.   
A decision is made.   
  
_“Proposal: Assistance provided aboard the vessel Nemesis. Soundwave: Will accompany you.”_   
  
There’s a shift in the segmented lids of the omnic’s optics as they form triangular crescents indicating her delight. An eager nod follows. Welcomed relief floods her mind, easing the previous torrent of worry. With Soundwave’s help came the opportunity to learn from her situation rather than just wait for her creator to find her. Efi would prefer it this way.   
  
“Thank you Soundwave, your help is greatly appreciated.” Orisa gushes sincerely, and gathers the supercharger in hand, intending to return it to its clasp.   
  
An unfamiliar sound blooms to life. The air crackles in tandem.   
  
Missing the way Soundwave tensed, Orisa leans to the left, peering past him curiously to spot a swirling green mass suspended mid-air in the distance. _‘How strange...’_ With a blink and an exaggerated click, a new photo is placed in a file labeled ‘For Efi’.     
  
Something spills from Soundwave’s abdomen distracting from the appearance of the mass. A cable accented by purple lights. It snakes around the air like something possessed before nudging the smaller omnic’s chassis firmly. She gets the hint to stand up, unperturbed by the sudden haste. 

* * *

  
The autobots exit the groundbridge into falling darkness. The last of the sun’s light is consumed by the horizon, leaving the stars as the sole beings to grace their light upon the landscape.   
Or they would have been, if not for the purple biolights of a slender mech crouching low over something else casting its own light over the sand. It’s an electric shade of blue, pulsing in time with the locator beeping in the autobot’s auditals.   
The source of the beacon.   
Yet no signs of a wreckage in sight, nor did there seem to be anyone here except _him_ . It had to be some sort of trap, but this didn’t fall in line with the mech’s usual tactics at all.   
  
Distracted by this as they were, none of the autobots notice the three muted thumps behind them as the ground bridge slips closed.   
  
Their blue optics each lock onto the motionless frame of Megatron’s spymaster, wariness dripping into something more like fear as they fan out into a semi-circle around him. There’s no doubt that he knew they were there the moment the groundbridge opened. Silence reigns in a fragile balance, like the first sound would set off a steel trap beneath their pedes.   
Their leader is the first to brave those teeth.   
  
“Soundwave,” Optimus’s deep voice commands attention, sounding impossibly loud despite his careful volume. “Surrender peacefully, and no harm will come to you.”   
  
There’s zero reaction from silent mech. Not entirely unexpected. Though no less dangerous. The autobots edge closer with humming weapons and painfully tense frames. Having yet to be attacked by the mech Optimus attempts reasoning again.   
  
“Soundwave, you’re outnumbered, it would be in your best interest to step away from th-“   
  
The mech in question is suddenly in motion, smoothly unfurling from his crouch to face them at his full height. All grace and calm precision. Another tendril unspools from his side in an instant, but fails to distract from the pair of large yellow optics blinking at them from behind his digitigrade leg.   
  
Optimus blinks back.   
  
Time stalls as he tries to parse out what his optics are telling him. It’s something small, excessively so for a cybertronian that wasn’t a minibot, cassette, or a-   
  
“ _A youngling?!_ ”   
  
He’s not sure who shouted it, his processor stunned by the idea that there could be any surviving younglings of their race. _How?_ The war had made raising sparklings too dangerous, and now without the Allspark...   
Optimus’s spark clenches and he desperately attempts to meet those innocent yellow optics again for some sort of confirmation that this could be real. Hope flares wildly in his spark and seizes the air from his intakes.   
He didn’t even realize he had lowered his weapon until one step forward had him flat on his back. Cutting a pattern of purple lights through the night, the cable that downed him snakes back to its owner.   
  
There’s an outcry from his soldiers at seeing their leader struck. Caught off guard, though uninjured, he notes himself lucky Soundwave didn’t electrocute him. He could have incapacitated him before any of his team could ward him off. But he didn’t. Knocking him down was just a warning. A very clear one at that. _Don’t come any closer._   
Opting to sit up instead of risking provoking Soundwave into attacking again, he shouts out an order from the ground.   
  
“Hold your fire!” He barks as if it’s needed, as if any of them would dare put a youngling in danger. “Soundwave has a hostage!”   
  
Soundwave on the other hand has no qualms with fighting around the youngling, and immediately lashes out with his cables. The first snags Arcee’s pede while the second grabs Bumblebee’s door wings, in an instant they’re both swung from the spy’s left side all the way to the right. Bulkhead lets out a shout, but can’t get out of the way fast enough. They’re flung back by the impact, landing in a disjointed heap of metal.   
  
From that second to the next their situation proceeds to get worse. The tale tell sound of a groundbridge opening up has Optimus snapping his gaze upward, just in time to see a horde of Vehicons pour from the sky.   
  
_“You’re outnumbered.”_ The Prime’s own voice chides him from Soundwave’s speakers.   
  
Glowering more so at the mech’s use of his own words than the appearance of the drones, the leader of the autobots rises back to his pedes. To his side his soldiers do the same, standing back up with their optics flitting about the con reinforcements circling down from the sky.   
  
Bulkhead and Arcee are clearly dazed, but no worse for wear. His scout however whirls in pain, one doorwing bent at an awkward angle, the other hanging limp. At that sight Optimus aims his blaster at Soundwave’s helm, even though he knew he couldn’t bring himself to fire while the youngling was here.   
Soundwave knew that too. Apparently though someone _else_ didn’t, because there’s a little yelp of alarm then a flash of a tiny piece of metal. It lands on the sand in front of Soundwave’s pedes, and out springs something Optimus could only describe as some sort of blue _forcefield?_ It doesn’t even cover half of the mech’s legs, and he looks just as baffled by its appearance as the autobots.   
  
There’s a brief pause as Soundwave regards the thing before he delicately reaches down, and pins the sliver of metal at its center between his slim digits. He lifts the forcefield from the ground as if it is weightless, then holds it in a manner reminiscent of the way a human would hold a paper fan. It looks ridiculous, but the spymaster appears ready to bludgeon them all offline with it anyway.   
  
Optimus decides he’s not waiting around to see if he can.   
  
“Arcee, Bee. Secure the hostage!”


	2. Deal Breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the lovely comments, especially the people who went out of their way to contact me on my blog ^^
> 
> Disclaimeryikes drew an amazing piece of a scene from the last chapter! Look at it please, it's like a dream come true to have art drawn of my fics lmao.  
> https:// disclaimeryikes.tumblr .com /post/183165721750/please-move-behind-the-barrier

  
  
Pain radiates from his mangled doorwings with every jostling step. Bumblebee attempts again to dart toward the youngling as commanded. He barely catches a glimpse of green paint before his pedes are swept out from under him. Bee just manages to fumble into a roll instead of getting a faceplate full of sand. By the time he gets up Soundwave is quite firmly blocking his line of sight to the youngling.    
Bee burbles angrily at this obstacle, said obstacle quite predictably doesn’t respond. Mr Obstacle’s chest plating does however unlatch itself from his frame, and fly directly at Bumblebee’s faceplate. The scout squeals in surprise and throws himself to the side, narrowly avoiding Laserbeak who takes a sharp turn, vanishing into the horde of vehicons. He doesn’t question it, too focused on his orders to wonder where Soundwave’s pet was going.    
  
Beyond him Arcee was steadily sneaking past Soundwave, Bee’s job as the distraction working out fairly well so fa-    
  
“Slag!”    
  
Arcee takes a cable straight to her abdomen plating and lands hard on her side in the cooling sand. She lays prone for a nanosecond too long, the same tendril returning to sling her further away like a rag doll. Bee winces, they were going to need to revise their plan if they wanted to save the youngling. He wasn’t sure how though, Soundwave wasn’t someone they saw on the battlefield often, at all. Fighting wasn’t his thing, it wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be at least. Right now however, after being tossed around several times over Bee had to wonder why Megatron didn’t use his TIC for this more often. If anything they’re going to have to figure out a solution to at least get past Soundwave. The longer this dragged on the more likely they’d end up dismantled by the silent mech.    
  
There’s a loud crunch of metal behind him as Bulkhead destroys another vehicon. The looming con remains impassive as ever as the vehicons numbers begin to dwindle from the combined force of Optimus Prime and Bulkhead.    
The ground shakes. Distantly Bee wonders when the cons started outfitting vehicons with rocket launchers. They have poor aim, though unfortunately Optimus and Bulkhead are rather large targets. Neither have been hit yet, but it’s only a matter of time, and more importantly they’re being kept away from attempting to take down Soundwave.    
  
Arcee heaves from her vents when she gets up, shaking slightly.    
  
“This isn’t working,” She puffs, more to herself than Bee. There’s no point in trying to use comms to conceal battle plans right in front of _ Soundwave _ of all mechs. The femme makes an aborted sign with one of her servos instead. Bumblebee fights the urge to sigh, who knew if this was going to work? “Let’s just both try to go around him. You go left I go right?”    
  
Bee bobs his helm and they both charge directly at the spymaster, who seems unamused by their attempt in misleading him. The scout thinks it’s a hopeless tactic, but then Soundwave shifts, barely detectable in his frame but the hitch in the rhythm of his cables movements speaks wonders. His attention had waned. So briefly. There’s no such thing as a free moment in battle, any small distraction is a hindrance that could cost you your life. The pair of determined autobots manages to get closer this time, weaving their way through a tide of angry lashing cables. Within a few meters they’re close enough that instead of using his cables Soundwave swats at them with the blue forcefield he was holding.    
The autobots cringe against the impending impact, fearing a direct collision with the unknown. But there is none.    
Oddly enough, instead of getting plastered onto the sand they pass right through the make-shift swatter, their extra momentum sending them tumbling behind the slender mech. Soundwave whirls on them a second too late. Arcee shutters a gasp.   
  
There’s no youngling here.    
  
“Optimus! We’ve lost visual of the hostage,” Arcee narrowly ducks under a swipe of Soundwave’s arm that likely would have taken her helm off her shoulders, shouting into her comm. “He was stalling!”    
  
Bee activates his blasters, none of the autobots had been willing to shoot toward Soundwave while the hostage was near, but now it was clear they had escaped on their own. Hopefully. The other options didn’t exactly have happy outcomes. He fires upon the tall mech, aiming to buy time for Arcee who transforms and drives off to continue the search. Bee shoots point blank, and by whatever poor luck he seems to have gathered today, the arm that Soundwave brings up to shield himself is the same still clutching the weird forcefield. The scout’s optics cycle wide as his projectiles seem to fizzle out of existence against it, leaving his opponent completely unscathed. Soundwave gives the barrier an considerate look, then ever so slowly brings his visor back up to stare down the autobot. Bumblebee whines mournfully.    


* * *

  
  
“Bee’s about to get trashed.”   
  
_ “Miko!” _   
  
“What? It’s true,” The girl huffs, head propped up casually by the arm she had leaning on the dead vehicon they were hiding behind. She’s unperturbed by the glare Jack shoots her. “Soundwave’s like, one of Megatron’s main dudes, so he has to be stupid strong.”    
  
Beside her their smallest companion Raf struggles to peer over the downed vehicon, worry furrowing his brows together. It’s dark, one of the only reasons they have yet to be spotted, and it makes it hard to make out the clashing figures on the battlefield. Thankfully being painted bright yellow meant the scout stood out even in the meager lighting.   
  
“He’s hurt!” Rafael exclaims in a near shout, pointing at his guardian’s mangled doorwings. “We have to help him!”   
  
“How?”   
  
In the distance Bulkhead heaves something into the air. With a roar he rears back, and launches a rusted car at Soundwave from across the battlefield.    
  
Miko grins, “Yeah that’ll work! Go Bulkhead!”    
  
The projectile car is promptly batted away by Soundwave with the grey frame of a vehicon. The force he uses sends it hurtling away from him, straight toward the trio of humans in hiding. Like any sensible people their immediate reaction is to scream at the top of their lungs.    
Of course this does nothing to stop the car, but it does alert the surrounding bots to their distress. In any other situation that was enough, now though none of the autobots are close enough. They all seem to sense that, yet it doesn’t stop them from racing toward their humans to protect them.    
  
And as physics would have it, none of the autobots managed to reach their humans in time to shield them from the car hurtling at them. However, they aren’t the only guardians on the battlefield tonight.    
  
Some sort of mechanical creature, impossibly small in comparison to the titans locked in combat, braces itself before the trio, with the lift of one arm, it’s image seems to waver and hum. Suddenly, it’s golden.    
And the car collides with the gold in a horrific scream of metal on metal. Sand springs back from the force of it, pelting against skin in sharp stings. The children try to scramble away from the imminent crush of the car  _ and _ bot hitting them. Except there is no further impact, the golden figure doesn’t budge an inch. Instead of pushing the bot back the car crumples in on itself like a crushed soda can. Then it teeters back and falls to the ground in a heap of metal, all as if conforming to the will of the protector shielding them.    
  
Shock chokes the three humans into silence, mouths gaping, eyes wide. Around them the sand settles in a wafting cloud.   
  
Before them the metal beast remains just as it was before the collision, with an addition of destroyed vehicle left smoking at its cloven pedes. The gold fades, leaving pale green and beige armor in its wake. Somehow completely unscathed by an entire car being slammed into it. It points a clenched servo to the ground, and a glowing blue forcefield blooms forth from the sand. Bright big yellow optics turn to them searching, its horned helm cocks slightly as it considers them. “Are you satisfied with your protection?”    
  
The voice is about as unexpected as its actions. High pitched and innocent.    
  
“Uh-“   
  
“Ohmygosh, can I ride your back?! Wait, why are you so small? How old are you? Are you a baby!?” Miko pushes past Jack to crowd their savior.    
  
The centaur-esq femme blinks, stalling as if really mulling over Miko’s surge of questions.    
  
“Efi says I’m not allowed to give rides while on duty,” She says this in the apologetic tone of someone recently chastised. “My size is designed to be appropriate for my primary functi-“   
  
Her voice is drowned out by the deafening sound of something detonating a scant five feet away. The humans cower, hands clasped over their ears as the close proximity threatens their ear drums.   
On the other hand, the small bot doesn’t even flinch, clearly trusting the deceptively thin barrier she had deployed earlier.    
  
“-I was activated by my creator a month ago.” She finishes speaking as if she hadn’t just told them she was the equivalent of a robot toddler. Raf wasn’t quite sure he heard that right, none of them were.  He asks her to repeat herself, she does, and it’s the same baffling number as before.    
  
“So you  _ are _ a baby!” Miko says this much louder than required, her ears still ringing. She pulls out her pink flip phone, and snaps a photo of the strange bot. Craning forward the young bot peeks at the phone curiously, prompting Miko to turn it around to show her the picture with a wide grin.    
  
“Who are you?” Raf asks before Miko can spew anymore inane questions.    
  
The quadruped regards him with those big bright optics, straightens her posture, and then introduces herself as if she’s reciting something from a script.    
  
“I am Orisa Odele, unique unit OR-“   
  
It’s not the deafening sound of a explosion that cuts her off this time. Instead it’s a high pitch drone that sets the hair on the back of their necks upright. Reflexively they each snap their gazes upward, the humans with far more haste than the young bot. Laserbeak circles above them like a hungry buzzard, brewing up more fear than any actual bird was capable of. Because it’s appearance meant it’s master was certainly not far behind. Neither are the autobots, they’re all approaching fast. They don’t know it’s race rigged against them.    
  
“What are you guys doing here!?” Arcee scolds, her voice high with poorly disguised worry as she shouts across the distance, peeling over the shifting terrain toward them in her alt mode. Bee whirls in agreement next to her, also tearing through the sand.    
  
The children sag in relief at the sight of their guardians, but their relief isn’t shared by their new protector. She rounds on the two fastest autobots, leveling her large gun at them.    
  
“Wait no! They’re on our side!” Jack   lurches forward, grabbing at her weapon, which is apparently the wrong thing to do because Orisa startles, her gun immediately heaving back and firing out a huge misty green orb. “Look out!”   
  
At his warning the two Autobots skid and swerve around the orb in a misguided attempt to avoid it. From the mass two strings of green light materialize, latching onto their frames. The children gasp, fearing the worst for their guardians. Then harmlessly orb floats further behind them. There’s a collective sigh of relief.  _ Click! _ Orisa’s weapon shifts back into place, then the ball appears to collapse in on itself, vanishing from the darkness in a burst of green light.    
Just like that, Bee and Arcee are no longer moving forward. In fact they’re moving in quite the opposite direction of forward. As if caught by invisible hands, they’re torn back like they’re weightless, and deposited where the the orb detonated. Dazed they scramble to detangle themselves, apparently unharmed.    
  
“Oh,” Jack removes his hands from Orisa’s weapon sheepishly. “I thought you were gonna give them the same treatment you gave that car.”    
  
He shakes his head as if to clear it.    
“Still don’t shoot anymore of those at them, they’re the good guys.”    
  
She drops her weapon arm toward the ground and appears as if she’s about to say something in return, but all that comes out is:    
“Oh! Hello, Soundwave.”   
  
Which does not make any sense for all of a half second before the spymaster is transforming into his root mode to drop down between them. The sheer kinetic energy of his impact sends the humans onto their rears, though he pays them no heed. His attention is locked on Orisa, who for whatever reason has the nerve to wave at him. He reaches out toward her.    
  
“Leave! Her! Alone!” Each word is punctuated by a kick of sand by Miko. “You creep!”   
  
Predictably this does nothing, until Miko whips out her phone, and throws it at the decepticon. It bounces off his plating with a harmless _ thunk _ . He looks to her in a deliberately slow creeping motion as if to give her time to regret her actions, one servo hovers over Orisa who mimics Soundwave’s stare in a much more innocuous fashion.    
  
Mike’s previous bravo evaporates in face of the faceless. She barks out a nervous laugh at the mech looming over her. Fear stiffening her limbs even when her friends try to pull her away.    
  
It’s unneeded though, because one moment Soundwave is there and the next there’s a blue blur as he’s tackled by Optimus. The two mechs tumble away in a flurry of metal limbs and the crackle of electricity. Orisa yelps, startled by the sudden violence and then even more so when Bee slides in the sand to a stop in front of her shield in root mode. Recovering quickly she plants herself in front of the children, optics flashing red.    
  
“Halt!”    
  
Bumblebee flinches back as if struck, warbling out a confused beep. At that the smaller bot seems to falter slightly.    
  
“Language input not recognized. Please try again.”   
  
Raf scrunches his nose, and Bee visibly sags in disappointment with a low buzz. As the eldest of the four behind the shield Jack steps in and gives Orisa’s plating an awkward pat.   
  
“Come on Orisa, none of-“ He motions vaguely to her defensive stance. “-that. I told you, Bee is one of the good guys.”    
  
The scout in question nods and  beckons them to him with one servo. The other transformed into his stinger points toward the wave of vehicons kept at bay by Arcee and Bulkhead.   
  
“Bee!” Raf calls out to the scout with a soft smile. His eyes flickering over the mech’s injuries. “Are you ok?”   
  
Bumblebee beeps an affirmative, laying out a servo for his charge to climb. Orisa watches nervously as the boy hops into the yellow mech’s servo, once he’s settled he sends her a reassuring grin.   
  
“See? Bee is friendly.” Raf waves her over, intent on getting the little bot away from the battle. “We have to go now, it’s not safe here.”    
  
There’s a long moment of hesitation where the little bot shifts her weight, and turns her gaze to the other children who shoot her encouraging looks. Not quite relaxing she pads through the shield while the other two humans converge around Bee.    
  
“Where are you going?” The quadruped asks in a quiet tone which could most definitely be described as childlike. For whatever reason it’s saddening.    
  
“Where are  _ we _ going.” Miko corrects with a wink, dusting sand off her phone. “You’re coming with us! Though I don’t think you can fit in Bee.”    
  
“Yeah, no, sport cars aren’t exactly spacious- not the point though we gotta get going.”    
  
Orisa blinks owlishly, making no move to come closer.    
  
“Come on,” The eldest urges, glancing toward where Soundwave and Optimus rolled off to. Whatever he sees makes him more impatient. “What’s wrong? We have to go,  _ now _ .”   
  
“Are you hurt?” Now from his perch on Bee’s shoulder Raf grows concerned for the younger bot, feeling oddly responsible for her. While it was kinda neat no longer being the youngest, it was also daunting due to the fact he wasn’t sure how to help her. None of his siblings were this young, nor were they seven foot tall alien robots either. “Do you need to be carried?”    
  
Orisa takes a step back just as Bumblebee takes a step forward. The mech’s much larger stride brings her within arm’s reach despite her backwards retreat. He reaches out to her, eerily reminiscent of Soundwave’s actions mere moments before, but her reaction isn’t the same. The youngling shys away from his digits, compressing her frame into the sand below like a fearful cat. If he notices her discomfort he ignores it in favor of their dwindling time. It’s a mistake he isn’t given the chance to regret. From the air comes a searing trail of light that strikes the scout’s extended servo. He draws his arm back automatically, releasing a surprised cry, and shifts his servo into a blaster aiming at the sky.    
  
Laserbeak enters the fray, cutting between the two bots, and laying down another stream of fire at the autobot. Bee burbles angrily, shielding the soft fleshed humans with his frame while he returns shots at the drone. Laserbeak’s erratic movements keep it unscathed long enough for it to get several more good shots in. But Bee is nothing if not a good aim, he lands a direct hit on the deployer. It keens out a strange shrill tone, then drops from the air. It’s little body twitches on the ground, sparking.    
  
A soft gasp is drowned out by the cheers of the humans. Bee preens, basking in their praise happily.   
  
Beyond their attention Orisa bends down, her single servo tracing a trembling line down the dented wings of the minicon. Without a word she gathers up the delicate frame, struggling at the task due to his long wingspan. Noticing her actions the other’s celebration dies out into bewilderment. Her gaze remains steadfast on the deployer tucked carefully in her arms for a long moment. When she finally looks up at them her optics are wide and searching, filled with an emotion that builds a deft dirge of dread in their cores. She looks at them like a child who’s just learned the world’s real monsters are much worse than shadowy beasts hiding under beds. Confused. Betrayed. Scared... _ of them _ . That wasn’t a look any of them were prepared to face.    
  
She steps back, the dim glow of her barrier parting around her form in a swath of fearful blue light. It’s as if the shield becomes something more than a fixture between them. Her optics flicker to the humans, resolve faltering then surging back in a storm. “Stand back.”   
  
Shocked stares meet her steely silence. Unbidden she stiffens, optics flashing, she stares past them in that all too familiar way of a bot receiving a comm. Then she bolts. They cry out to her, urging her to return, fearing for her safety. She’s not fast, yet she’s so small in comparison to the other Cybertronians she’s hard to follow when she runs back into the swarm of vehicons, their dark frames blending in the darkness. Bee sets his charge down readying to transform and give chase. A shouted warning from his leader stops him, but it’s too late.    
Soundwave is upon them, striking down Bumblebee, and blocking their view in one fell swoop.    
  
Singed and dented, Optimus calls out for pursuit, barreling toward his wayward opponent. “Arcee!”    
  


* * *

  
  
“Got it!” The femme disengages from battle and sets off after the youngling through the sea of drones that attempt to expel her presence.    
  
The haphazard chase leads her to the outskirts of the area, the battle falling into a din of incomprehensible sound in the distance. Wildlife stuck in a terse lull of silence. Sand is forgone for hard sheets of rock and smattering outcroppings. Her comm sparks and frizzes in her audials, whatever message being transmitted lost to the static. She already knows why, and the mere thought of it sends a thrill of anxiety down her spinal strut. She had to find the sparkling fast, because she wasn’t the only one searching now.    
The harden rock lends no signs of disturbance via small pedes, so she ventures forth further, straining her audials and optics.  _ There. _ From a break in the earth, the soft rattle of silted fearful venting.    
  
Careful to not make too much noise Arcee closes in on the source of the sound, and peers in. Within the crevice the youngling is wedged back as deeply as possible, looking fairly ruffled and scuffed. Wide frightened optics shutter at the sight of the older femme. Her spark clenches. Arcee lowers herself, trying for a soothing smile despite the strain of time itching at her plating.    
  
“Are you stuck?” She finds her voice coming out unbelievably soft, she didn’t think she could ever sound that way again. But how could she not? Here in the presence of the first youngling she’s seen in _ vorns _ . Stretching one servo out she attempts to coax the youngling forward. “It’s okay. Try to compress your plating, I’ll help you out.”   
  
The youngling is looking straight at her, but doesn’t seem to register her words. Distant in the same way many civilians reacted to being caught in the cross hairs of a battle.  _ Shock. _ Her strange helm gives a little shake. “He’s hurt.”   
  
Confused Arcee readies a question that dies in her vocoder when movement in the dark draws her attention. Something uneasy and cold curls in her at the source of it. Cradled in the youngling’s arms like an impossibly fragile creation of paper and glass is Soundwave’s deployer.    
  
“He’s hurt.” The youngling echos again, and this time Arcee  _ knows _ she’s not talking to her.    
  
The stoic mech behind her crackles with electricity, and her world descends into darkness.    


* * *

  
_ He had made a decision. _ _  
_ _ Unbelievably selfish, cultivated from that aching void in his spark longing to be filled. But who had to know? _   
  
A dim golden glow bathes the two symbionts in a soft light revealing the avian’s battered features. Laserbeak was folded to fit in the crevice, nestled against the youngling’s chassis. A sluggish flow of energon beads from the wound in his wing, deep blue stains on the cloth attached to Orisa suggested she had been trying to staunch the bleeding. He’s pleasantly surprised by this, he hadn’t expected her to retrieve the minicon, much less try to treat his wounds. Most think Laserbeak is just a drone, but this sparkling went out of her way to try to protect him. Strange, though she wasn’t mechanoid either, that could be why she treated him like another living being as he did. Or perhaps she was young enough to not have yet learned any such prejudices.    
  
Laserbeak isn’t nearly as injured as he feared, the damage to his wing practically superficial in comparison to what he’s faced before. In fact he likely had just been dazed by the autobot’s shot, but Orisa is clearly distraught. It’s evident in her wide optics and trembling plating, how she hugged Laserbeak close despite his energon dirtying her frame. The deployer certainly didn’t mind the coddling, pulsing thrums of contentment over the bond he shared with his host.   
  
It’s just a matter of reaching to her and she’s scrambling out of the crevice, rushing forward to bury her faceplate into the crook of his arm. It’s such a familiar gesture of trust he automatically curls closer protectively, and pets the top of her helm. Dormant protocols stir to life, and he has to stave them off by reminding himself the plating beneath his digits is unfamiliar. Still it takes him longer than it should to pull away, and summon a groundbridge that lights their features in its disquieting green glow. At its appearance those yellow optics peek up at him uncertainly, looking for guidance from the infinitely older being. He grants her the desired instruction easily. With light touches Soundwave herds the youngling toward the portal, shielding the view of the blue femme’s crumpled frame with the flat plane of one arm.    


* * *

  
The base is awash in a tense gloomy silence. They had lost battles before, but never with consequences like these, not at least in a long, long time.    
  
Ratchet all of mechs tries to dispel the suffocating atmosphere.   
  
“Did quite a number on you huh?” The medibot notes the smoldering areas of Optimus’s frame, servos busy reconnecting wires in Bumblebee’s doorwings. Arcee lies flat on the medberth, still as deep in stasis as she had been when they brought her in. “Soundwave doesn’t usually partake in combat...must have been important.”    
  
There’s no response from the mech’s around him, someone sighs.    
  
From her seat on Bulkhead’s pede Miko lets out a frustrated yell, hands thrown into the air.    
“She’s just a kid!”  _ Like us _ goes unsaid, her voice rising in pitch. Jack grimaces and Rafael looks like he’s about to cry. “A month old, how does that compare to you guys’  _ millions of years?  _ We can’t just let the ‘cons take her!”    
  
“An Earth month?! That’s impossible, there are no sparklings left, especially not  _ here _ , that would require...that would mean..” Ratchet trails off flustered, he doesn’t believe it, he doesn’t want to.  _ ‘Finally a sparkling is born and it’s immediately stolen away by the deceptions. What sort of sick joke is this?’ _ But then he sees Optimus, the utter turmoil in his blue optics and he knows its true. The fight drains out of his frame, and he resigns himself to gazing at his old friend helplessly.    
  
Optimus looks to him now, mouthplate set in a grim line, the despair still lingering in his optics overshadowed by a brewing fury of determination.    
  
“I will not allow this innocent life to become another casualty of Megatron’s tyranny.”   


* * *

  
  
Large wickedly clawed servos clasped behind his back, Megatron turns to regard his third in command. The slender mech draws forth, vehicons in various states of injury mill about behind him, most definitely not at attention in the presence of their leader. In fact, they appear to be paying more attention to Soundwave’s back than him. A low growl solves that insubordination quickly. His lip curls, blazing optics roving over the ridged drones, until they meet their red reflection in the blank visor of the silent mech stilled a respective distance away from him.   
  
“Soundwave,” He prompts simply, though it’s un-needed as he already knew his TIC had succeeded. The expected nod is received, however nothing is presented to him. At that his gaze returns to the drones, finding their own servos empty as well, then back to Soundwave who remains characteristically silent. “Where is the weapon retrieved from the site of the beacon?”    
  
Sliver optic ridges quirk in confusion when Soundwave stands aside revealing nothing yet again. That is until he tilts his helm downward drawing Megatron’s gaze far lower to-   
  
“Hello! I have been informed that you can assist me with my current situation?”   
  
It’s accented vocalizations are unmistakably feminine, soft and sickeningly pleasant to hear, words projecting an air of naivety that died out in mechs during the war. Young, very young and  _ trusting _ . A horrendously small mechanical creature holds his gaze without a hint of apprehension. Large unassuming yellow optics are set in an orange faceplate, above yellow plating stretches from either side of its face where eye ridges would be, tapering off between its optics in an odd mimicry of a nose. Its faceplate is framed by a pair of green horns curving down from a golden headpiece fixed to its helm. The strangeness of its visage doesn’t end there, it stands on four legs yet had an upright torso with two arms, one of which was clearly a permanent weapon. A green banner displaying a triangular emblem is affixed between its front legs, wet and grimy with energon. It sways lazily as the creature begins to fidget under his scrutiny. Its entire frame lacks any sharp edges or boxy parts, plating curved smoothly giving the illusion of softness, even the horns were without pointed tips.    
It stands pressed against Soundwave’s lower leg, it’s seven feet of height dwarfed by the TIC’s twentyfive. The normally touch-adverse mech has a servo hovering close to its helm, presumably to keep it from escaping. Everything about it’s build seemed to utterly ooze harmlessness, it didn’t even appear to understand the gravity of situation it was in. _ ‘Disgusting.’ _ _  
_   
Servos curl into tight fists, and a sneer twists his faceplate, this  _ thing _ was by no means what he desired from such a powerful signal.    
  
“ _ This _ is the source of the beacon?” Megatron spats incredulously, making his displeasure known to the startled drones and his TIC. The silver mech marches forward with the intent of removing the object of his frustration. It blinks at him owlishly, as if fear was an unknown concept. So he decided he’d teach it.   
  
He doesn’t make it two steps before it’s removed for him. The slender digits previously drifting near its helm reach down and wrench the thing back by the shoulder. The leg it had stood next to smoothly shifting to guard it from his sight. A deceptively delicate servo rests flat on his silver chest plates, poised as if preparing to push.   
  
Megatron halts, the ever loyal Soundwave blocking his path, with a servo raised against his master.   
  
Silence reins a thick blanket over the room. The sheer wrongness of the situation mystifies the occupants, even Soundwave projecting a sense of surprise through the slight stiffening of his frame. Defying his leader was simply something that he didn’t do.   
Ire dithering in the face of his own mounting bewilderment, Megatron attempts to reel in his emotions to regain his composure. He eyes his TIC carefully, unable to comprehend what could have caused such a reaction from the slim mech. Had it been any other mech to step in his way he would have had no repercussions against forcing them to move. Betrayal was common in his line of work, he had even come to expect it of certain mechs, namely Starscream. But not  _ Soundwave _ , if there was anyone he thought he could trust it was his third in command.    
Spurred on by the communications officer’s wild actions the vehicons begin to mutter amongst themselves. While he’d prefer to shout the tension in Soundwave’s frame leads Megatron to dismissing the present vehicons with a wave of a single servo. They reluctantly peter out of sight, and he fights the urge to groan at the gossip they’d likely be spreading soon. It’s dimly forgotten once the door slides shut, leaving Megatron to stare down his first follower in that suffocating silence. This was such a minuscule slight in comparison to anything Starscream had done, however from Soundwave this was unprecedented and deeply disconcerting. Unease flits through him as he feels the telepath’s presence brush against his mind.    
He knew should Soundwave ever chose to truly betray him, the damage he could do would no doubt surpass anything Starscream could even conceive. However unlikely that was, he still needed Soundwave’s loyalty to remain as unwavering as it had been before this little hiccup. Something about the creature hidden behind his TIC had overridden the logic of his usually most competent subordinate.    
Soundwave was not someone he had ever needed to intentionally deceive, he wasn’t even sure he  _ could _ lie to the telepath. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be manipulated.    
  
“Soundwave, what’s the meaning of this?” Megatron’s voice rumbles through the meager distance separating them, the uncharacteristically quiet tone once reserved for nights long ago. A near invisible shudder slides through Soundwave’s frame, and his presence is back surging against Megatron’s processor almost desperately. Projecting his disappointment at the forefront of his mind wards the telepath off briefly. He watches as the stoic mech visibly falters, screen falling from his leader’s burning optics to the floor.    
  
Something changes then, the shame Megatron felt trickling faintly from the other’s mind vanishing in an instant. The presence pushes against his mind again, capable of entering with ease, but pressing for permission. Disgruntled by the mech’s sudden resolve Megatron relents allowing the other to link their minds. He gets a glimpse of a small servo gripping Soundwave’s leg before he’s hit with an intense barrage of images and foreign feelings.    
  
A pained hiss escapes his vocalizer as the flood of information eases from his processor with an apologetic tinge. He grits his denta against the ache it left behind, and the unpleasant emotions it stirred within him.    
  
“...I understand the passing of your symbionts has left you-” He wasn’t sure how to describe the agony Soundwave had projected of multiple spark bonds breaking over and over. The cold void of emptiness that followed, increasing with each death until one lone bond remained. “...desiring companionship. However next time inform me before you bring stray...creatures aboard.”    
  
At times like this Megatron resents the other’s vow of silence. The use of Soundwave’s telepathy would likely always end in the TIC’s favor. He doesn’t bother trying to hide these thoughts from the mech still lingering in his mind. In turn the telepath attempts to placate him with old memories he’d once frequently asked the other to project for him. It feels too intimate now, perhaps fine for a poet and his closest friend, but unbefitting of a leader and one of his subordinates. Soundwave’s servo still braced against his chassis no longer feels like it’s threatening to push him. So he nudges Soundwave from his processor, unable to discern the source of the reluctance that follows. He feels uncomfortably alone when the mech’s mind ebbs from his own, despite the fact he was still standing in front of him, just a few feet apart. The feeling appears to be mutual because seconds later the press returns uncertainly.    
  
“Use your words,” Megatron drawls sarcastically when Soundwave attempts to reignite the link between their processors. He retreats fully this time, removing the servo from the other, visor coming alight.    
  
“Youngling- source of the beacon - assist - the decepticon cause.” The smattering of recorded voices cuts a hasty statement into the room.    
  
Perhaps he can use this stowaway to his advantage, if anything outright rejecting the creature likely wouldn’t end well. “And what do you think it has to offer?”    
  
Soundwave seems to perk up, his visor turning on with a flash of light. On it a recording flits through scenes, the creature next to an object emitting pluses of blue light, the autobot scout’s terror filled optics as his blaster fire proves ineffective against a strange forcefield. It switches to a birds eye view of a night battlefield, a green orb wields gravity against two autobots, and then a golden figure comes out unscathed from a horrific collision. The view returns to the ground fixed on the little creature fleeing from the autobots, Laserbeak in its arms. The recordings end, and Megatron finds himself grinning. Sharp, calculating, and greedy.    
  
He gazes down at those yellow optics blinking from behind Soundwave, and gestures wide.   
  
“Welcome aboard the  _ Nemesis _ , my dear femling.”   
  


* * *

  
At another place, in a further time, a scientist attempts to quell the sobs of a girl crumpled in the scorch marks of where her best friend once stood.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hate writing dialog.


End file.
